Down the Right Path
by Ghixx
Summary: A young human discovers that his role in the grand scheme of the galaxy is not what he expected. KoToR era. Much delayed fifth chapter finally added.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: A young human discovers his role in the bigger picture. (KoToR era.)

Content Warning: I try to keep the language fairly tame, but the content itself is more teen oriented.

Disclaimer: I do not own any established Star Wars characters or concepts. The characters focused on here are of my own creation.

Down the Right Path

Chapter 1

Dirac Gahl looked out the window of the transport ship and heaved a sigh of relief. He couldn't wait to get back to Telos IV. The red crystal he had been sent to retrieve was wrapped in cloth and tucked in a pouch at his belt, but he could still feel it. The Dark Side was strong in the crystal, he knew that much for certain, but there was something else to it. Whenever the crystal touched his skin, it hurt. Merely holding the thing with his fingertips caused incredible pain to surge through his arm, and as a result it was extremely difficult to encase the crystal in the pouch as he had been instructed.

Even now, with several layers of cloth from his black garments and the pouch between himself and the crystal, he could still feel the pain. Worse yet, the longer it was near him, the more the pain spread through his body. Dirac imagined his leg would be sore for days even after he got rid of the crystal. He briefly thought of trying to set the blasted thing aside, but he had been warned keep it with him at all times once he had it in hand. Couldn't this cursed ship go any faster? As much as it angered him that he had not been warned of the full properties of the crystal, he knew this was another test, and it was one he would not fail. Still, the sooner he got rid of the thing, the better.

As his mind wandered trying to avoid thinking about the searing pain emanating from the pouch at his waist, Dirac began to think about his destination. Ever since he had first heard the tales as a child, he wanted to join the ranks of the Sith. Most of those he knew during his childhood, if they were lucky enough to be Force Sensitive, they wanted to be Jedi. Not Dirac. Even when he was young he felt the Jedi were boring; too much waiting around, not enough action. Sure, some of the Sith were a little bloody-thirsty and excessively violent, but the Jedi had their share of bad apples too. And then there were the Sith Lords, but he only heard tales of them previously. Depending on whom you talked to, Darth Revan was either: one of the greatest military generals to ever live, a common Republic Soldier, or even a swoop racer! A swoop racer! Dirac still couldn't believe that one, but that Rodian swoop mechanic from Tatooine refused to think otherwise.

The important thing to Dirac was that he was finally on the way to achieving his dream. Of course there was some backstabbing and murder along the way, but it was all for the greater good. Well, his greater good anyway. It was for the best that Figum didn't make it past those trials to be accepted at the Sith Academy. The other students, not to mention the Sith Lords, would have put him through a far worse fate than Dirac did.

Dirac tried to suppress a shudder at the thought of the Sith teachers. The stories he heard in his youth had been misleading, if not outright lies more often than not. During his childhood, his dreams were often filled with tales of magnificent duels between Jedi Masters and Sith Lords; awe-inspiring displays of martial combat, skill with a lightsaber (or even two at once!) and use of the Force. Why, Darth Malak was said to have been one of the best lightsaber duelists in the galaxy! By the time he reached his teen years, Dirac lost count of the number of times he had been daydreaming about meeting a Jedi in the field of battle, his red lightsaber ready to clash with his foe's blue blade.

The reality of his situation was a far cry from the stories he had heard, however. As excited as he was when he learned he was Force Sensitive, his enthusiasm had dimmed consistently after he learned that the Sith Academy outside of Dreshdae on Korriban had been abandoned for years. He had heard rumors of another academy on Malachor V, but even if he had the credits to pay someone to take him there, he wasn't going to find a willing pilot on a misbegotten planet like Telos.

Then, his luck changed almost overnight. After having a particularly bad day, Dirac ran into three Duros punks during one of his exploratory trips to the planets surface. The punks must have thought they could scare him with their numbers and steal anything of value he might have had on him, but Dirac was ready for a fight. Sadly, the punks put up even less of a test than the Black Vulcar gang members Dirac ran into back on Taris, but the rush of combat did make him feel at least a little bit better.

After walking away from his battered and beaten foes, he heard something, like a voice, but it was in his head. Dirac wondered if he had taken more blows than he thought, but the voice only grew louder and clearer.

"Come alone to the abandoned bunker tonight, storage shed three." The voice said.

Dirac stopped in his tracks and whipped around, looking for the source. There were some bushes off to his left, and a pile of rocks far off to his right, but it was as if whoever spoke was right next to him. Then the voice spoke again.

"You won't find me yet. Come alone to the abandoned bunker tonight, storage shed three." The voice sounded harsher this time.

He didn't know what to make of it, but he headed back to the residential areas and bided his time for the rest of the day. He tried to keep busy to prevent himself from thinking about his odd occurrence from earlier in the day, as dwelling on it would make the wait until nightfall unbearable. Just before sunset Dirac even stopped by the med lab to make sure he came out of his previous fight as well as he thought he did. The doctor gave him a quick approval, and it was time for his mysterious meeting.

Dirac made sure to grab two of his vibro-blades, just in case. One tucked into his belt, and another hidden in his left boot. He was certain he could take anyone else his age in the area in a fight; the vibro-blades should give him the edge he needed against anyone else he could think of to expect. Dirac snuck out to the planets surface, and took a roundabout route to the old bunker. As his mind wandered about the possibilities the night might have, Dirac remembered that word had it a Jedi passed through there years ago just before a major battle involving the Republic. He had tried to forget about that, as he was not happy when he learned the battle occurred while Dirac was off planet with his family. Could a Jedi have contacted him?


	2. Chapter 2

The area was vacant as ever when he finally made his way to the old installation. Dirac tried to keep an eye out for anything unexpected, but he didn't see a sign of anyone, let alone his Duros sparring partners from earlier. He made his way to the storage shed, and to his surprise the door opened as soon as he stood in front of it. Then to his disappointment, a small gasp escaped his lips, ruining his desired first impression.

The voice spoke again, but this time he could actually hear it coming from deeper in the shed. "I have been watching you for some time now, young one. You show much promise."

Dirac was angered more than anything. Someone was spying on him? "Show yourself!" He demanded to the darkened room.

A figure stepped forth from the shadows. It was a human male, clad in a form fitting black cloth outfit with a black tunic. The man's head was shaved, but his skin was incredibly pale. As he came closer, Dirac noticed that his eyes were yellow in color. That was odd. The condition of the man's clothing became more apparent as well when he stepped into the dim light. Judging by the multiple tears and marks on his clothing, the man had been in many fights, without time to fully recover. Was he on the run?

"W-who are you? What do you want with me?" Dirac tried to sound strong.

"There is much anger in you, young one." The man answered, sounding equally tired and yet stern. Again with the 'young one' remark! Dirac's right hand balled into a tight fist. He may have been young, but he was well built for his age, and never backed down from a fair fight. "You are able to use the Force, yet you lack training."

"What? How do you know?" Dirac's growing anger was giving way to curiosity.

"I am…I was a member of an elite group." The man was hesitant about something.

"You were one of the Sith?" Dirac's heart jumped.

"I AM one of the Sith." Dirac had to fight the urge to step back at the response. "You wish to know the power of the Dark Side?" Dirac's heart headed for his throat this time. "I need a series of tasks accomplished. I am no longer able to perform these tasks as I would have been. After recent events, I could not perform these tasks if I had to. That is why I need you. And why you need me" Dirac was at a loss for words. A Sith had been watching him? His fortune couldn't be this good. His mind raced for a way to respond, but the man spoke again before he could think of something to say. "There is a pretender at the Trayus Academy on Malachor V. The fool has a powerful lightsaber crystal, but he is oblivious to its true potential. I need you to infiltrate the pretender's Sith Academy and retrieve the crystal. You will then take the crystal to two locations, and perform a ritual with the crystal at each location. I will then meet you at the third location here on Telos for the final ritual."

Malachor V! So the rumors were true! But how could he get there? Before he realized what he was doing, Dirac's thoughts made their way to his lips. "But how? I don't have a ship or the credits to get to Malachor V, if I could even find a pilot willing to travel there!"

If the man was bothered by Dirac's outburst, there was no hint of it in his voice. "Credits are no issue here. A mercenary in my service will take you were you need to go. Now, you wish to know the power of the Dark Side, do you not?"

Dirac figured his heart was beating so fast the man must be able to hear it. "Yes! I will do anything!"

The man laughed softly. "As I knew you would. I can train you with techniques, that while they are meant for my craft, they will be more than sufficient to help you on your tasks. But I warn you boy, no one must know of this."

"Of course! Anything you say!" Dirac wondered if he was dreaming.

"My order has many enemies, and they must not know what I am attempting to do. Now, young one, let me show you a mere hint at the power of the Dark Side." And with that, Dirac's Sith training began. He never did learn the man's name, but he was able to piece together that his teacher was a member of a group Sith Assassins. Though what happened to the rest of his fellow Assassins, Dirac couldn't tell, and his mentor never said. His mentor's history wasn't of the greatest concern to him however; it was his training at the hands of the Assassin that nearly consumed his every moment. It wasn't exactly what he had been waiting for all his life, but it was a start, at least.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

True to form, his mentor's expertise in combat centered on attacking when your opponent least expected a fight, a tactic Dirac found more distasteful than useful. Of course he wouldn't deny that sneaking up on an opponent to land the killing strike with a blade was effective, but he still preferred to face his enemy when he could. Where was the glory in battle when your enemy didn't even get to see you deliver the deliver lethal blow?

While Dirac lost track of how many times he ended up knocked onto the floor before he knew what hit him when facing the Assassin in their sparring sessions, he believed he was actually able to show his mentor a viable technique or two in regards to combat. The Assassin never acknowledged it, of course, but each time Dirac was able to counter one of the incoming attacks the Assassin would pause and smile. It was brief the few times it happened, but it did happen.

The unarmed combat was all well and good, but Dirac was anxious to get his hands on a lightsaber. He had only ever seen a brief glimpse of one many years ago on Taris when a Sith Master was escorted by a small squad of Sith soldiers into a military installation. The Master was scolding one of the soldiers for something, and Dirac guessed the blade had been ignited to emphasize whatever the Master's point was. Regardless of the intent, from that day Dirac longed to possess such a blade. The Assassin caught on to Dirac's desire after he found him quite obviously looking through his mentor's poorly hidden weapons cache.

"Develop a sudden interest in ranged combat, Acolyte?" Dirac would never forget the chiding tone to his mentor's voice at the time, which only worsened his mood after discovering the crate held nothing but various blaster rifles.

"N-no, I was just looking." Dirac wasn't trying to lie, but he wasn't sure if he had something to hide.

"There is nothing for you in there. A rancor could pick up on your distaste for blasters." Did he have to sound so amused?

"Don't you have a lightsaber? I thought all Sith-" Better to get it out now than sit through the Assassin's aggravating questioning.

The Assassin laughed at him! "You are eager, but you have _much_ to learn. We assassins have no need of such weapons. Do you really think that one such as I who lives in the shadows would use a weapon that would announce my presence to anyone in the room?" Oh. Dirac hadn't thought of it that way. "Regardless, you won't find what you're looking for in here." Dirac tried to hide his disappointment as the Assassin made a motion to encompass the entire room. "You have your instructions for infiltrating the Trayus Academy. While the head of the Academy _must_ be shown the error of his ways, it is a full Sith training ground nonetheless. I can assure you that you will find what you seek there."

"You mean I can get a lightsaber there?" Did the Assassin intend for him to steal one?

"There are several possibilities. Combat training is required of every Sith, and use of a lightsaber is required of every Sith Warrior. Impress the Masters, as you must to gain access to where the lightsaber crystal I require is held, and they will grant you a traditional Sith lightsaber. Or you can simply take one from a weaker student. The choice is yours." The amusement was gone from the Assassin's voice, but there was still a faint smile. Dirac's mind was racing. A traditional Sith lightsaber? How hard could it possibly be to impress a false Sith Lord? The Assassin continued, "But enough talk of weapons. It is time to continue your training in the Dark Side."

For all of his memories of the rush of combat, as well as his excited anticipation of an imminent fight, the exhilaration of using the power of the Dark Side dwarfed anything he had ever felt. Was this what it truly felt like to stand against a Jedi in battle? And to think, the Assassin was only showing him parlor tricks of the mind. To be able to force the weak willed to do your bidding was a handy trick, but it was just that, a trick. During his lessons in "Domination of the Mind," as the Assassin called it, Dirac was reminded of the other tales of the Sith he had heard in his youth. While he sought any information he could about lightsabers, he had also heard stories of the legendary Force Powers wielded by the Sith, but he was never truly interested in such things until the Assassin gave him the smallest taste of the Dark Side of the Force.

Dirac became absorbed with his combat and Force training, to the point that the rest of his day seemed be a blur. It wasn't until he finally began his late night lessons with the Assassin that life returned to a livable pace. He had all but lost track of time during this period, until another fateful encounter shortly after his Force lessons began. Dirac was making his way through Citadel Station when he was stopped by a human med lab assistant had hadn't seen before.

"Young man, you don't look so well. Are you feeling alright?" The first thing that Dirac thought of was that the woman was trying to trick him. Of course he felt fine! He had never felt this good in his life!

"I'm fine," Dirac mumbled, eager to be on his way.

"If you say so, but you really should see a doctor. I've heard of a similar skin condition on Korriban, and while it doesn't seem to be fatal, it can't be healthy." This was an odd way to attempt a distraction; she definitely deserved that much credit.

"Skin condition?! What're you-" Dirac was growing irritated at the woman's false sympathy, but it was when he raised his hand to emphasize his point that he noticed what the woman was talking about. His skin had a gray-ish color to it, which certainly wasn't normal. Was he poisoned? He didn't feel sick, but he sure did look it. The Assassin must have had something to do with his condition, but his lesson wasn't until later on that night. "I-, I need to get going." Dirac blurted as he ran back to his room.

When he finally returned to the residential area, he headed straight for a mirror to inspect just how bad his mystery condition was. Dirac was at a loss for words as he discovered that the entirety of his skin had taken on a light gray tone. It wasn't that noticeable from a distance, but either up close or far away, it was still a far cry from the pink color his skin used to be. Dirac was almost certain that now he could pass for another race altogether to an alien not familiar with humanoids. What was happening to him?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The wait until his meeting with the Assassin that night was maddeningly agonizing, since Dirac couldn't bring himself to leave his room during the day. He still felt perfectly healthy, more so than he could ever remember, but his skin still had the same gray color to it. When he did finally manage to leave to make his way to the abandoned bunker, he grabbed a dark hood and pair of gloves, normally used for poor weather, so he had something to hide his usually exposed skin. Better to attract attention by hiding his features than by advertising his mysterious skin condition, he decided. Dirac also figured that if the enemies the Assassin spoke of were involved, it would be best to not show that he had succumbed to their trickery.

For his trip this time, Dirac decided that he would take an even more indirect route, trying to stay out of any obvious lines of sight as much as he could. When he finally made it to the bunker; his mood only worsened as a loud sigh of relief escaped his lips before he was able to put more effort into staying hidden. The element of surprise the Assassin continually lectured him on was significantly harder to maintain than he expected, even when he was specifically trying to be sneaky.

The Assassin's voice emerged from deep within the shadows before Dirac was able to check his tracks to see if he was followed. "Something is troubling you, Acolyte?"

Dirac pulled back his hood, and didn't even bother to check the tone of his voice. "Yes something is troubling me! I've been poisoned!"

The Assassin emerged from the darkness and slowly approached Dirac for a closer look. His expression was curious at first; then he merely laughed. And he laughed for some time. Dirac briefly thought about how he could manage to land a decent hit on his mentor, but the Assassin's guard never went down for the entirety of his taunting laughter. "What is so funny?! I fail to see the humor in my impending death!"

"I was wondering when the first signs of your transformation would appear. You truly don't know what's happened, do you?" It took visible effort for the Assassin to hold back his amusement, almost as much as it took Dirac to stop himself from charging his mentor in a blind rage. The Assassin continued after Dirac couldn't even stammer a response. "It is the power of the Dark Side, my student. I had presumed you were aware of the toll it takes in exchange for the power it offers."

"I-…what are you talking about?" The stories he had heard never mentioned anything like this.

"It appears the tales you've been told are incomplete. The Dark Side of the Force offers power to those who will take it, but that power comes at a price. Wield the Dark Side long enough, and follow the ways of the Sith, and you will soon notice a physical change. The skin is usually the first part of the transformation, as you have noticed." A serious tone overtook the Assassin's words as Dirac remained speechless. "Continue down this path, and you will soon come to resemble me. Did you think I always looked this way?" The Assassin took the further widening of Dirac's eyes as the response he was looking for. "Oh yes, my eyes are a useful tool for intimidation, as I am sure you will discover in your own time. Long ago, I resembled what most think of as 'human' as well, before I embraced the ways of the Sith. Travel down this path even further as a high ranking Sith, and other, more drastic changes will occur. It is, of course, a small price to pay for the power."

"There was nothing… nothing about this in the stories! I- I've been lied to!" Dirac desperately wanted to inflict pain on something, anything.

"Have you been lied to, Acolyte?" Though the humor was gone from the Assassin's voice, a smirk slowly began to form on his lips. "Or have you only noticed what you wanted to see? This is a …turning point… in your training, my student. Will you turn back now, in an attempt to regain your former life? It is possible if you embrace the ways of the Jedi," the smirk was gone from the Assassin's face as he spoke the last word, replaced with a brief but intense look of utter disgust, "though I do not recommend it. Or you can devote yourself to the true path to power."

_This_ certainly put a new spin on things. Dirac tried to remember the slightest bit in any of the stories he had read or heard that mentioned the Sith looking so inhuman. Well, inhuman other than the stylized armor or robes higher ranking Sith were known wear, but surely, there must have been something else about this transformation the Assassin waited until _now_ to mention. Dirac couldn't remember anything about this so-called price for following the Dark Side, but his mentor's yellowed eyed gaze wasn't helping his memory either. How many people knew of the exact cause for his change in appearance, anyway? Would it matter if they did? Dirac was confident in his fighting ability before, but now, with his Sith training, who would he possibly have to fear?

"I will continue my training to serve the Sith." Dirac hoped his words sounded firm for the amount of work he had to put into them for the desired effect.

"Excellent, my student, you've chosen wisely. If you would have stopped now, I would have killed you were you stood. But enough talk of what will not be, let us finish the final phase of your training." If the Assassin noticed his sudden look of surprise, Dirac couldn't tell. And the more he thought about it, he didn't want to know, either.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As for the final part of his training, it was not something Dirac liked to think about. It was merely a minor relief that the Assassin's methods to toughen him against and for torture made the current unbearable pain in his leg seem like a vacation on a Dxun moon by comparison. The methods were extreme, but they did save his life on numerous occasions during his initial quest for the red lightsaber crystal deep within the blue-gray halls of the Sith Academy on Malachor V. The idea of different forms of pain briefly reminded Dirac of a particular experience in the Academy's dungeons, one that still sent shivers down his spine at the thought of reliving the moment even with the Assassin's training. The excruciating torture he was put through at the time was more agonizing than anything he had ever known, but it was the memory of the screams he could hear from the other rooms that caused him to once again quickly alter his train of thought.

It was then that Dirac remembered how he could barely hide his excitement during his first trip to the Academy. In his youth he had been told, repeatedly, of the endless customs and traditions and formalities of the Jedi. He often wondered how they could ever accomplish anything when the Padawans had to answer to their Masters, who in turn had to answer to the Council? Just how many hours did the Jedi waste in debates when they could be out among the people, actually accomplishing their work? For as many times as Dirac simply longed to hold a lightsaber, even one that wasn't red, he was set in his belief that ways of the Jedi were not for him. The procedures the Jedi followed to go about even their simplest tasks would have driven him mad! Surely the Sith acted when they needed to, since they weren't bound by the countless Jedi guidelines.

To his extreme dismay, Dirac quickly learned that the Sith were just as bogged down in tradition as the stagnant Jedi. It seemed as if every day he spent in the darkened halls of the Academy unearthed some archaic teaching he needed to memorize, and each one was more complex than the previous. And then there was the combat training.

Ever since he was knee high to a kath hound, Dirac went on hunting trips with his father. While his father preferred the use of blasters and mines, Dirac relished going in close for the kill. He had even developed quite a collection of vibro-blades from his hunting trips, and they were one of the things he valued the most in his early life. Even with his love of hunting, and the number of times he imagined his prey to be great beasts like rancors or even Krayt dragons, Dirac quickly learned that combat at the Academy was an entirely different beast than what he thought he was used to.

It was a shock to see his old friend Netel at the Academy on his first day. Of course he was somewhat glad to see a familiar humanoid face, but ever since the Republic soldiers dragged Netel away in broad daylight on Taris, Dirac was certain he would never see him again. As far as he could discern after questioning the locals, the story was that Netel killed a few drunks in a cantina fight. He didn't know the circumstances, but he knew Netel, and that was all he needed to confirm that his old friend was a murderer. Dirac could only guess at what Netel had been through since, but he was certain the drunken scum that Netel killed so many years ago weren't the last to fall at Netel's blade. And the more he thought about it, Dirac was also certain the men in the cantina weren't the first Netel had killed either.

That was what got to Dirac that first day at the Academy. He was pleased to discover that as far as he could tell due to a lack of gray skin and yellow eyes, none of the other students he could see showed anything close to his level of expertise with the Dark Side. Could the others even tell that he was human at this point? However, he couldn't believe the Sith would allow someone like Netel into their ranks. And from the little he had overheard from the other prospective students, Netel was a model Republic citizen by comparison.

It was during the first competition among the potential students that reality hit Dirac hard yet again. A male figure cloaked in black robes had called the hopefuls from the waiting area through a large set of double doors into a massive room. The new room was completely barren save for two balconies on the upper left and upper right sides of the doors. The balconies were high enough that the only way Dirac could think of to reach them would be to have a jetpack, though he was also certain a fall from the balcony would definitely be enough to kill someone. Dirac was also able to pick out a form sitting in each balcony, but he couldn't get a good look at either at the time due to the lack of lighting.

For as much as he made it a point to keep an eye on the cloaked figure, once they were lead into the room, the figure disappeared from the ground level. Then after the doors were closed and locked behind them, he heard a booming voice issue his first official instructions. The room was to be the site of their initiation. As much as the Sith would like to admit all of the students, they could only welcome four of them into the Academy that year. That was something Dirac didn't want to hear. He wasn't concerned with how many would be in his class, he was concerned that there were twenty-five potential Sith in the room!

Then the voice spoke again. This would be their first test. As a reminder that for the Sith, only the strongest survive, the hopefuls would engage in an impromptu battle. The last four students able to stand would be accepted into the Academy. The next moments were a blur as a large Iridonian lunged onto his back, and it was all Dirac could do to stay on his feet. Sure, he had been in fights with animals before, but he always felt so superior to the beasts he hunted. He had also been in a few brawls in his life, and come out the victor more often than not, but he never faced anyone who was trying to kill him!

Between the screams and battle cries of the others in the room, Dirac tried his best to focus. He believed his attacker was trying to get into a position to snap his neck, but it wasn't that different a situation compared to what he had been taught to throw off a rakghoul. The Iridonian didn't expect Dirac's maneuver either, but Dirac was also shocked when he realized he had pounced onto his now prone opponent and delivered a swift killing blow with his vibroblade to the Iridonian's chest. It was just like he had done so many times with the rakghouls, he reacted almost by instinct. What shocked Dirac was that he had never actually killed anyone before, but he didn't have much time to think about his actions as a nearby female Twi'lek delivered a swift kick to his shoulder, knocking him off his feet in the process.

Even after everything he had done as a part of his Sith training, whether it was with the Assassin or at the Academy, Dirac still didn't like to think about that first day either. He survived the battle, barely, and then the two figures who were watching from the balconies came to the floor of the room to congratulate the new students. It was then that Dirac finally took a few moments to look around to see that Netel, the same Twi'lek female who attacked him earlier, and a male Khil were the remaining students still on their feet. How many of the others will still alive? He could hear moans coming from several directions, but there were more lifeless humps than just the Iridonian he had killed. The onlookers finally introduced themselves as the Masters of the Academy, though the robed Darth Gix seemed to be more in control than the other significantly larger red and black armored Sith Lord, Darth Furos


End file.
